


Tark the Kinky

by OfUruksAndOlogs



Series: Tarks of Mordor, Short Stories [2]
Category: Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor (Video Games)
Genre: Bodily Fluids, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Multi, No kidding there is cum everywhere, Orgy, Other, POV Third Person, Smut, Swearing, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:27:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22685467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfUruksAndOlogs/pseuds/OfUruksAndOlogs
Summary: Scenario written using the following imagine prompt:"Imagine flirting with Uruks/Ologs that were planning on killing you. Emphasis on the word ‘were’.One threatens to choke you, you smirk and wink at him. Another says he’ll tie you up and have some fun with you, you beg him to do just that, biting your lower lip.Soon you’ll have a whole group of confused, flustered, uncomfortable and slightly intimidated Uruks and Ologs who don’t know what to do with you anymore.Until one eventually returns the flirtation and teasing. Or simply refuses to let your words affect him like the others."
Relationships: Human/Orc, Orc(s)/Uruk-hai, Orc/Orc
Series: Tarks of Mordor, Short Stories [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1821769
Comments: 3
Kudos: 103





	Tark the Kinky

**Author's Note:**

> “Have you ‘eard about that weird pink skin?”
> 
> “Tark ‘the Kinky’? Yeah, gives me the shivers that one does. ‘Ave you ‘eard what they did to the last captain? Ain’t been the same way since…”
> 
> *adjusts pants* “Yeah, would hate to have that done to me… Speaking of, where’s the last place they were stalkin? Just so I can, y’know, avoid ‘em? Definitely not lookin for nothing, just curious…”
> 
> \- @arxryl at Tumblr, once having reblogged the original post.

* * *

As Prâk waited for an answer, he could see the wheels turning in the other Uruk’s head. Shrakh, his heart was beating miles per hour. He made it too obvious, didn’t he? This suspicion was confirmed when the goddamn glob in front of him started grinning, having caught on his reason to ask about the Tark. He got easily agitated by this, giving him an irritated glare and snarling. If that glob called him out on it…!

“ _Look, you piece of shrakh–!_ ”  
“Wantin’ to get your pole stuffed into a tiny, wet, tight Tark, eh?”

Prâk quickly walked up to confront the other, grabbing him by the front of his armor. Poor guy realized that he made a mistake by angering the bigger Uruk, and put his arms in front of himself to try to push the enraged male away.

“Shut your mouth, you glob. Just tell me where the Tark is.” He hissed darkly, fangs bared. This seemed to convince him to talk.

“’E-ey! No need to bash my face in! I’ll– I’ll tell you. See, I heard from the slaves at the forge–!”

* * *

The isolated ruins west from the fortress were apparently the new home for the weird pinkskin. ‘The Kinky’ was the most recent nightmare – or wet dream, to those who weren’t ashamed to show it – of Uruks and Ologs across Mordor. Funny to think that one weak little human could keep thousands of orcs on constant alert by seeking pleasure with them.

Prâk adjusted his tight pants one more time, cursing the uncomfortable fabric rubbing against his hard on that had been there for the past two hours. It’s been a good while since he got laid, and to hear a Tark was willing to bed his kin? That sure did turn a few heads, and made some be lost. Uruks and Ologs are used to doing it between themselves to release the tension, but now that there’s fresh meat on the menu, curiosity grew among them.

The Uruk let his Caragor mount roam freely for the moment, allowing it to explore the surrounding area without the need to follow him into the ruins. It was close to mid-afternoon when he arrived with a small sack of extra clothes and a few necessities, wielding a sword in case he met any enemies during his search. It was nerve-wracking, going out alone in the wilds to find the one who would welcome him with open arms and legs. His entire body shook with excitement, throbbing cock hidden under the loincloth and already leaking precum. If he didn’t find the Tark soon, he’d explode.

Good that it didn’t take him any longer, too. The unlit melted candles spread around gave away that the Tark was still there. The further in he went, the more candles and other decorations he saw – bones hanging from strings in an arranged manner, banners from different tribes, all gifts given by past allies and lovers. The second he passed under a broken arch, he could clearly hear loud talking and laughing. Most importantly, he could hear two different voices moaning over the conversations, coming from deeper within the ruins, which made his breath falter for a second.

Looks like somebody else had the same idea as him. Prâk was terribly worried about having to fight just to get his dick played with. He hoped the Tark could convince their partner to not kill him.

To his big surprise, he found an Uruk and an Olog guarding what would supposedly be the entrance to the Tark’s lair. The duo became visibly tense at the sight of him, from how their grasps on their weapons tightened and the Olog growled under his breath. Both were silent as he slowly approached them, but their glares held a warning that not even he wasn’t dumb to ignore – don’t mess with them.

The Olog wore the thick, protective leathers the Machine tribe usually wore, complete with a metal helmet and a belt filled with tools, and wielded a heavy metal club with one gloved hand. The Uruk beside him, however, had the armor only a Warmonger would wear – a vest and kilt with fur on the edges and belts to fit his body, pauldrons and gloves that covered his knuckles. A huge shield was upon his back, and a spear was held with his left hand.

“Hey, uh…” He flinched when the other Uruk snarled at him. “I-I… Is the Tark here?”

“Busy.” The Olog replied, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he held back a grin from watching Prâk’s reaction to intimidation. “Won’t take long, though.”

His friend smirked and rolled his eyes. “Stupid glob came by hopin’ to have some fun for himself. Grunt from the fort, looks like straight outta the vats. Probably his first time, too.” He chuckled as the moans grew louder in volume and length, and a deep roar soon followed. “Aaand… I was right. Wasn’t even fifteen minutes. Pay up.”

“One before him took longer.” The big one rumbled, frowning as he handed a small sack of coins to his friend, who quickly snatched it from him and stuffed it inside a pocket on his belt. “Don’t know why Tark wastes time on weaklings, Snagog. Not worthy of touch.”

“They like watchin’ them fall apart under them, that’s why, Ur-Gul. The thrill of dominance, of control, seein’ them beg for more. That is what keeps them going… And the pleasure of being their first time, too.”

The now named Ur-Gul sighed, returning to his usual position as guard. “Still think not worthy.”

With a shrug, Snagog leaned against his spear boredly, scratching the back of his bald head. “Can’t blame ya, big guy. None of those globs are worthy of our Tark’s attention. Too weak, too new. Wantin’ to get their hands on ‘em so they can tell ev’rybody about it, how they ‘tamed the vicious Tark the Kinky’ by fuckin’ them.”

Footsteps could be heard getting closer to the entrance, and the two guards stayed still, exchanging looks. The warrior coming out seemed dazed out of his mind, skin flushed a darker color, adjusting his armor and clothing with a heavy breath, smelling like sex. Indeed, it was one of the grunts from the fortress, one of their newest recruits. Prâk had seen him before when they were training under one of the captains. Lazy glob barely held a sword and he got to fuck a Tark?

The stupid piece of shrakh didn’t even notice Prâk standing there until he stopped inches away from him, startled by the feral expression the bigger Uruk had on his face when he finally looked up to see what was on his way. Ur-Gul chuckled under his breath and Snagog’s shoulders shook with silent laughter.

“Move, before we move you”, threatened the Olog with a smirk. “Wouldn’t want to make Tark unhappy by making them wait too long for next lover.”

That got the young recruit going, suddenly alert by the threat of being thrown like a sack of potatoes by any of them – or hacked into pieces by the older warrior that was incredibly pissed off at him. Prâk huffed, watching the slim figure disappear between the fallen pillars and rubble before turning back to the two guardians. “Anythin’ I should know before enterin’? Rules?”

Both Uruk and Olog seemed surprised that he actually asked that. It’s only reasonable that he did it due to the fact it’s a human, and not another orc. “Alright, here’s the normal procedure of the meeting.” Snagog cleared his throat and gave him a serious look.

“You go in there, you introduce yourself. Tark’s gonna want to know if it’s your first time, if you got any diseases, blah blah blah, shrakh like that. Answer their questions honestly. No weapons.” He glanced at the warrior’s sword, which was soon pulled from his belt and offered to the Olog for safekeeping. This earned him a pleased hum from the tall one. “Tark’s wishes are above yours. Don’t force them to do anythin’, consent is important.”

“Use tongue.” Ur-Gul was happy to add with a grin, inspecting the sword in his hands. “We hear, can tell when not used. Tark likes it. A lot.”

Prâk had a feeling he gave this piece of advice out of experience. How an Olog would be able to bed a small Tark, he’d never know.

“Careful with your claws and fangs, wouldn’t want to hurt them. Ehh… What else?” The defender bit his pierced lip as he took a moment to think. “Introduction, questions, weapons, consent, tongue, soft skin…”

“Warning.”

“Ah, yeah! Thanks.”

Snagog took a step forward, licking his lips, and looked deep into the other Uruk’s eyes. The stare he gave him wasn’t in the least friendly – in fact, it was as deadly as a drake’s mouth: held fire, sharp, promising death. This made Prâk uncomfortable. Heck, his hard on had been long gone by now, with the whole exchange.

“You mess with the Tark, boyo… You mess with us. Not just us both.” The older Uruk pointed past the intact archway with a thumb over his shoulder. “There’s a lot of Uruks and Ologs past this entrance who would gladly take their time torturin’ you until your mind breaks. They won’t hesitate to answer the Tark’s call to end your pathetic ass. We won’t hesitate to skin you alive and pull you apart to make an example for others… Starting with your dick.”

There was a muffled gulp as Prâk shoved the saliva gathered in his mouth down his throat. Seems like ‘Tark the Kinky’ was well guarded, thus explaining how they easily appeared at certain places to tease warriors and escaped from captivity time to time. Not only everybody’s nightmares but also their wet dreams, indeed. No wonder they could be all over the place. The Uruk took a deep breath and slowly nodded.

“You get it?”

“… Got it.”

The defender continued to stare at him, soon taking his original place beside the entrance along with his fellow Olog partner. Ur-Gul, who was mostly silent through the entire time, brought Prâk past the archway with a smile and a pat on his back. The sudden force made the Uruk stumble his way in, and he mentally cursed the Machine tribe member for doing it while throwing a glare in his direction.

Needless to say, while expecting more interested lads to be around, he didn’t think that the area would be packed. Boy, he was wrong.

Uruks and Ologs everywhere, from every tribe, from every corner of Mordor. Separated in groups of three to eight or more, drinking, eating, talking. A good portion of them were naked from head to toe, shameless as the day they sprung out of the vats, walking around without a care in the world. To his shock, most of those naked were either masturbating in plain view or having sex with others, grunting and moaning as they thrusted into another or were fucked. Some sloppily sucked cocks, others gave handjobs or licked asses. The floor and the walls were covered in so much cum, one could easily spot small puddles of it.

This wasn’t a dangerous camp with warriors armed to their teeth…

This place was a breeding ground.

Prâk couldn’t believe his eyes at first. His nose and lungs were taken over by the heavy musk – it was so thick, he couldn’t even sense the smell of the others that were there. And there he saw, at the farthest corner of the area, an image that surely brought his cock back to its previous hardened state…

Sitting naked upon a pile of cushions for comfort and fur rugs undernearth so the cold floor wouldn’t be a threat, an Uruk with his head between their legs as he eagerly lapped him all of the cum spread across their crotch, they squirmed and arched their back.

The Tark. The one who received the title of ‘the Kinky’.

Their soft skin looked to fragile to touch, so delicate, sweat running down their small body. Head thrown back, hips thrusting against the Uruk’s face, hand reaching down to grab his dreadlocks and press him further against their crotch, which made the male place his hands on their legs to spread them even more.

His body had frozen in place at seeing that. The raw, pure expression of pleasure on their face at being cleaned up with a tongue. The way their body shook at every touch, their sighs and moans. No wonder those guys were there. Not only they get to fuck each other, they also get to see this lovely view.

Ah, shrakh, Prâk thought. His pants were getting tighter by the minute.

Luckily for him, his presence wasn’t ignored at all. “Tarkie! Fresh meat!” A skinny Uruk called out in the middle of jerking off, grinning from ear to ear. And once his eyes met with the human’s as soon as they lifted their head up to look at the newcomer, he was a goner. There was no turning back.

“Stop.”

The Uruk between their legs immediately backed away at their command, taking his place beside them with a lowered head and a throbbing, leaking pierced dick. His gaze was on the floor, yet he could see the poor guy was aching to look at them again. A… Slave? No. A servant. A willing one. Not many orcs would be so willing to be a human’s pet, given their violent nature and big egos.

Tark the Kinky, as they were deservedly named by the rest of Mordor, looked up at Prâk with a satisfied smile, and he couldn’t help but give them a small nervous grin back.

“Well, aren’t you a handsome one?” Were their first words towards him. He felt his face growing warmer with the compliment, as well as his crotch. “What is your name, love? Got a title?”

“I-It’s Prâk. Ain’t got a title.”

“And what do you seek? Business or pleasure? I deal with both.”

Damn that Tark, they clearly could see the tent in his pants, and yet they chose to ask. Fucking tease. “Pleasure.” His answer gained him a sultry chuckle from them.

One soft hand reached out to pat the servant kneeling next to their seat on the head. “Have you ever had any diseases? I can’t risk my own health, you know.” Their grin grew when they felt a small whine coming from the smaller Uruk.

“No, never.”

“First time?”

“With a pinkskin.” A sad pout appeared on their face to express their disapproval, but soon vanished.

“And do you have any fantasies you’d like to act upon? Sadomasochism, bondage? I can be your little slut, your cum-dump, and you can be my daddy…” Their pink tongue appeared between their lips, wetting them slowly for Prâk to see. “Details will be discussed in private, of course. These things need a formal agreement and consent from both sides.”

The Uruk suddenly felt himself stop breathing at their suggestions. Damn, the title fit the description. Never ever had he seen such a filthy willing human before, nor heard such things coming from anyone, not even the lads back at the fort. His hard on was giving him pain.

He needed them now.

“N-no. No fantasies, just… Fucking.”

Grinning with amusement at his crude words, the human adjusted their position to allow their legs to fall to their sides, thus allowing him to take a peek at their crotch.

“Very well… Let me see your cock.”

… They wanted him to drop his pants. Prâk didn’t waste any time and took off his armor and clothing as quickly as he could. His weeping cock was exposed, and he gave a hiss when cold air hit the sensitive skin. A small gasp was heard coming from the pinkskin before him, and Prâk looked up just in time to see them bite their lips in anticipation, eyes half-lidded as they stared at his pole.

“You poor thing…”

In his imagination, he thought they’d be demanding and intrusive. To see them slide down from their seat, crawl all the way to kneel in front of him and gently grab his cock, giving it a few pumps, was NOT what he imagined things would turn out to be. It was Prâk’s turn to bite his own lower lip, fangs threatening to puncture it, to hold back a pleased groan. The Tark looked up at him with a smile.

“You must have been suffering for so long with this beautiful–” They pressed their lips against the leaking head. “– Gorgeous–” Another kiss, to the underside of it. “– Hot cock.”

A growl came out of his throat as he watched them take him inside their wet mouth, eyes fluttering shut, head bobbing up and down several times. He found out that a blowjob was better coming from a human with blunt teeth rather than an Uruk with sharp ones. They took him in deeper, using their tongue to stimulate his stiff dick.

“Fuck…!”

The tip hit the back of their mouth, and one of their hands began playing with his sack. Prâk thought back about the stupid glob that teased him about fucking the tark, and decided he’d get a small gift for the info. He hissed with pleasure and placed one of his hands on the back of their head, gently putting pressure so they wouldn’t choke.

Turns out, the Tark thought he did wanted them to choke. So they did.

He felt – and heard – them gag, wide yellow eyes staring down at how their face became flushed, a trail of mix of spit and precum running down their chin. Shrakh, it was disgustingly good to watch. Skin turned red, that vulnerable but pleased expression, tears starting to spill due to the pressure on their throat.

Their head was pulled back by his hand, so they could finally breath properly… And brought back down, making them gag once again.

It took every last bit of will to not hold them right there until he came inside their mouth. He was already so close, but he couldn’t just allow them to think he was a newbie at this. Snagog’s words came back to him at that moment.

_‘They like watchin’ them fall apart.’_

The bloody Tark must have been teasing him first so they could have a wild Uruk begging to fuck them hard. That, or they really enjoyed sucking cock. They knew they were desired, so they played a game to see how many times an Uruk would cum until he got tired.

Prâk was willing to play along, and not lose.

A deep snarl came from above their head, and they took a glance at the Uruk with a coy expression. He looked slightly pissed off. Good, that is what they wanted. But he didn’t throw them against the pile of cushions, no. He pulled them away from his dick and carefully pushed them onto the pile and spread their legs apart before diving into their crotch to–

_‘Use tongue.’  
  
‘Tark likes it.’  
_

_‘A lot.’_

A loud moan erupted as Prâk’s warm tongue reached places inside them, wriggling around to hit the right spots, hands reaching to their sensitive places to work them up, which captured the attention of some bystanders who had their own hands wrapped around themselves. Several chuckles, cheers and whistles were heard.

“Give us a pretty view, Tark!”

There was certainly a good feeling the Uruk got from eating the human out in front of others. Pride? Satisfaction? Seeing them squirm around while asking him to keep going was quite satisfying indeed. To know it’s him doing that, to know they’re enjoying it… He now knew why lads left and right didn’t want anything to do with the Tark, and even feared them whenever they appeared.

It was like an addiction. Once you tasted their sweetness, you never wanted to stop. It was a taboo.

Forts and camps across Mordor lost a good amount of their warriors to their own desires. Sure, they returned when they were done, but one could recognize the yearning on their faces and the occasional daydreamers, the constant need to seek relief. None could recreate the special moments, so most of them disappeared.

And if one searched for the Tark, they were guaranteed to disappear too.

Prâk would have laughed in triumph when the Tark finally reached climax with a scream if not for his tongue stuffed inside them, fingers riding them through it. The others cheered even louder for his acomplishment. “Better than the last glob”, one commented. “Finally gave them what they wanted.”

He leaned back to see the result of his actions. Never before he had seen such a filthy, attractive and hot sight: the Tark lying down, body shivering with the aftermath and covered in sweat, skin flushed with a deep red color, the space between their legs dripping wet. Their mouth was open, taking in ragged, short breaths, eyes staring up at him through their eyelashes.

“You…” They gasped for air and chuckled. “You’re great at it.”

He gave them a pleased grin, leaning down to press his chest against their stomach. “Done for now?”

“Oh, definitely not.”

His world became a blur, but he could feel their legs suddenly wrapping themselves around him. He was thrown off balance by a force, landing on a soft surface with a weight upon his lap. Eyes wide, he noticed that he was the one laying down now, while the Tark sat down on him with a huge smirk. For a human, they were pretty strong and knew when to strike at the right moment.

“Time for your reward for being such a good boy.” They brought his hands to rest on their hips, and reached down to grab his weeping cock to aim it towards their hole without hesitance.

The feeling of being surrounded by a tighter, warmer wall was maddening. He wanted to thrust into them and breed them right away. His eyes closed and his head tilted back, and he heard them laugh in amusement, and their hips began to rise and fall painfully slowly.

His grip on their waist was tight. Prâk was lost in pleasure, feeling himself reach their deepest spot. “Fuck!” The Uruk growled in frustration.

“Continue to be a good boy for me.”

He had been a fool.

While he sought to win their little game, the Tark had tricked him into giving them what they wanted most – him falling apart under them. Not like he didn’t enjoy it, no.

He loved it. And that is why he was so mad about it, too. He was going to become one of those globs who would worship the ground they walked, following them around and yearning for their touch.

And when he finally came inside them after so much teasing, he knew he was lost forever. That night, he went back to the fortress to pack his things up and left without a single word to his fellow brothers in arms nor his superiors.

Not like they would try to follow him, anyway. They knew that, if they did, they’d also disappear.


End file.
